


Solutions

by Anonymous



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Kidnapped Lance, Langst, M/M, dub-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-24 02:36:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10732383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “Trying to get me drunk?” Lance asked, swirling the drink in its glass. It was a little more purple than any wine he’d tasted before – go figure.Lotor leaned against the headboard and took a small sip. “I want you to relax, paladin. You’re quite witty when you’re not so tense.”“You’re right, I should loosen up about this whole ‘imprisonment’ thing.”Lance is taken prisoner by Lotor and is left to his own devices to escape. His methods are a little unorthodox, but that's going to stay between him and Lotor.





	1. Chapter 1

Getting kidnapped by Lotor was not part of the plan. Even being in the same  _ galaxy _ as Lotor was not part of the plan. But, Lance told himself, these were his cards and he needed to work with what he'd been dealt now.

He was a little embarrassed at how easily he fell captive. Lance had been completely taken by surprise when a mass of Galran soldiers surrounded him in a hallway; the yelling in his comms suggested the rest of the team was unsuspecting as well. Lance wished he had been able to gather a little more information before his helmet was knocked away and he was hauled out of the base. He had no way to know if the rest of his team got out safely, and it haunted him. He had plenty of time to worry, too. He was briefly brought before Lotor, too exhausted and beaten to even curse him out properly, and was promptly deposited in the isolated cell where he remained.

Lance didn’t know how long he had been in the cell. Long enough to pass out and wake back up, long enough to get stiff and cold from the stone floor, but not long enough to hear any sort of footsteps. He paced around the cell several times, messed with the keypad by the door until it flashed red and screamed at him a few too many times, but was nowhere near figuring out a way to escape. He was hungry. 

_ Focus _ , Lance told himself for what felt like the hundredth time.  _ They'll come to feed me eventually. I'll learn their rhythm eventually. I'll find a weakness eventually.  _

_ That is, assuming they don't leave me here to starve to death. _

Lance slept again, and when he woke, it was to the door to his cell being thrown open. The light was strong, but Lance was hauled off his feet and shoved into the hallway before his eyes could adjust. He stumbled after one guard, acutely aware of the metal prodding into the flesh between his shoulder blades. 

Lance did his best to map out the hallways he was led down, but it seemed to him like something of a labyrinth. Every wide, empty, freezing cold hall looked the same. He wished he had more than his torn undersuit to keep him warm. 

"Where are we headed?" Lance tried to sound confident, but his voice was a rasp from exhaustion and a lack of water. The guard behind him only grunted and shoved his gun into Lance's back a little harder. Lance decided not to push his luck and shut up for the time being.

Finally, as Lance's legs threatened to give out, he was led into a bedroom. It was nothing like the cozy room Lance was used to back on Earth, or even like the cramped quarters of the castle. The room was too wide and too empty, grey walls and floors only interrupted by another door and a bed. 

“You will wait here for the prince,” the guard in front of Lance said. He turned just enough to give Lance an unimpressed look. “You will be bathed and fed.”

He was immediately swept into one of the other doors the room held. It opened into another uncomfortably large space, this time a bathroom. The guard behind Lance finally dropped his gun from Lance’s shoulder blades in order to start stripping away what was left of his undersuit. “Hey, hey, take me to dinner first,” Lance tried to laugh, an edge of hysteria in his voice. The guards only guided him towards the steaming water.

“I can wash myself,” he said when they began to scrub at him, but his complaints were once again met with silence. It was almost soothing, though, having two sets of hands carefully lathering soap on his skin. He might have dozed off if it weren’t for the unfamiliar, chemical scent of the soap and the way the purple hands paid no mind to his bruises. He was given no warning before his head was dunked underwater and no sympathy when he coughed and spluttered. The large hands crept into places a little more sensitive than Lance would’ve liked, but thankfully they didn’t stay long after finding no dried blood or cell dirt to wash away.

The hot water combined with his lack of nourishment quickly made him dizzy. The guards tugged him out of the water before he could pass out and wrapped him in a towel – purple, like everything the Galra touched. Lance wanted to scoff. He held himself back, only because he was now completely naked, lightheaded, and entirely vulnerable.

One of the guards disappeared while the other continued to dry Lance’s hair. He returned shortly after with clothing thrown over one arm and a small bag in his other hand. Lance’s towels were whisked away to wherever his undersuit had disappeared, and he was left to sit nude while the guards sized him up. Lance was never the type to be too insecure about his body, but the emotionless way the Galra raked their gazes over him was more than enough to make him squirm.

“I know I’m a fine specimen, but–Ow!” Lance flinched backwards as one of the guards none too gently lifted his arm. The guard huffed at his reaction and reached into the bag, pulling out a tub of some sort of salve. Lance squirmed in his grasp as the salve was rubbed into a particularly nasty scrape along his ribs.

Lance was familiar with the sting of antiseptic, but this was something else. It smelled horrible and  _ burned _ as it was rubbed into his flesh. He made a noise he wasn’t too proud of and somehow managed to yank himself free from the Galra’s grasp, only to be caught by the other. He shoved Lance down and pinned his shoulders to the floor.

“Do not struggle,” he grunted as Lance continued to thrash. 

“It hurts!” Lance cried.

The guard holding the salve sighed down at him. “Only for a moment. Look.” 

He gestured to Lance’s ribs. Lance shakily obeyed, expecting to see blistering red skin and reopened wounds. Instead, the cuts were closing up fast enough for Lance to watch it happen. Where the skin met was raised and tender, but healed. Lance’s wide-eyed gaze fell back to the jar in the guard’s hand.

“Now please, stop struggling.”

Lance did his best to stay still and quiet, but knowing it wasn’t causing him any harm didn’t make the salve any less painful. The deeper the wound, the more it burned. It felt like hours before the guards deemed him properly treated. When the pain finally subsided, he did feel better, if not exhausted.

“Come,” said one of the guards as he was lifted back to his feet. The fabric that had been brought in with the medicine was held open for him. It seemed to be something like a long robe.

Lance wrinkled his nose at it. “You’re serious? You want to see me in that?” He pinched a bit of the fabric between his fingers. It was a dark purple, of course, but almost transparent. It didn’t seem like it would be doing much in terms of warmth, protection, and certainly not modesty.

“The prince requested it.”

“Screw that guy!”

Cold metal was pressed to his back again within a heartbeat. “You will speak of the prince with more respect, boy.”

Lance scowled, but stepped into the flimsy fabric without any more protest. It was soft but otherwise offered no comfort. Satisfied, the guards led him back into the bedroom. One scanned his face at the pad by the main door and stepped outside, where Lance assumed he would stand guard. The other took a similar stance on the inside to watch Lance.

Patience was never Lance’s strong suit, and while the guard allowed him to wander the room as he pleased, there wasn’t much to see. He eventually took a seat on the edge of the bed and began to consider a nap. “How long will we be waiting?” he asked the guard, sick of the silence.

“Until the prince decides he is ready to retire for the evening.”

“And how long will that be?”

The guard levelled him with a stare. “Boy, I do not think you should be so eager for your meeting. Consider your situation.”

Lance stared back at the guard. Thinking about what was happening was exactly what Lance was trying to avoid. There were only so many ways for him to interpret being taken to a bedroom and clothed in something so...revealing. 

He clicked his tongue and wrapped the robe tighter around himself.


	2. Chapter 2

Lance was left to wait for far too long, in his opinion. He was tired, but he didn’t want to be asleep when Lotor arrived to avoid seeming too vulnerable. The guard wasn’t very chatty. Lance was bored.

Finally, _finally_ , the door slid open. Lotor nodded to the guard and gave Lance a cold smile. “Stand,” he commanded, voice soft and low. When Lance didn’t move, he repeated himself, this time as a warning. Lance slowly got to his feet. Lotor took his time letting his eyes wander over Lance, stalking closer. He hummed as he circled around.

“Are you ‘humans’ descendants of the Alteans?”

Lance turned his head to frown at Lotor. “Huh? I don’t think so.”

Lotor lifted a white eyebrow. “You look shockingly similar to them. Curious.” Lance broke eye contact and looked straight ahead. “The ears, though…”

“Enough about the ears,” Lance groaned. Lotor chuckled behind him.

“It’s alright, we can fix them up someday. Come, paladin.” Lotor’s hand snuck around to guide Lance by the hip. Lance didn’t move. “Come.”

“I’d rather not,” Lance choked out. Long fingers pressed harder into his skin.

“I’m afraid you don’t have much choice.”

Lance looked to the guard by the door, but the guard stared straight ahead. He held his gun in his hands.

Lotor stepped closer, towering over Lance by several inches. Lance couldn’t help but dip his own head in fear. “I only want to sit with you, paladin. I’m not here to hurt you. Please don’t make me angry.”

Lance nodded and let Lotor take him back to the bed. Now was not the time to fight, unless he wanted a bullet through the head.

“Are you hungry?” Lotor asked when Lance settled on the edge of the bed. Lance didn’t respond, just stared warily at the hand Lotor placed on the mattress too close for comfort. Lotor turned to the guard. “Have the food brought in.” The guard nodded and unlocked the door.

Lance’s mouth started watering immediately. A tray was set between Lance and Lotor by a relatively small and unarmed Galra, who bowed to Lotor and quickly made their retreat. The tray was covered in the best looking food that Lance had seen in ages – not to criticize Hunk’s cooking, but even he could only do so much with unfamiliar ingredients. Lance licked his lips.

“Eat up,” Lotor prodded as the guard closed the door behind who Lance assumed was a servant.

“How do I know it’s not poisoned?”

Lotor smiled. “I’ll let you feed me whatever you wish.”

“How do I know you’re not just immune? What if I can’t digest this stuff?” Lance picked up a fork and prodded at a piece of meat as he spoke.

“These are the same things we fed your dear Champion. Paladin, if you do not eat, you will starve.” Lotor’s smile turned frightening. “We have more painful methods of making you stay nourished if you insist on disobeying.”

Lance scowled but began slicing at the meat. It reminded him of pork, but softer. He placed a slice on Lotor’s side of the tray and proceeded with the same treatment for the other foods. “Eat it,” he demanded. Lotor obeyed.

Lance watched Lotor carefully to make sure he swallowed a bite of every fruit, meat, and grain on the tray. Lotor never made a sour face or hesitated. Still, Lance waited a few minutes to see if there were any less immediate effects before he began cautiously starting his own meal. Lotor watched him as he ate, but didn’t seem to be expecting anything. Lance finally decided his chances were pretty good and tucked into the meal in earnest.

The servant came back into the room when Lance was finished to whisk away the tray. Lance was full and satisfied like he hadn’t been in ages. He licked fruit juice from his fingertips and tried to ignore Lotor’s gaze burning into his skin. Lotor touched his knee.

“Shall we sleep?”

Lance startled. “Huh?”

“I don’t think sleep is a foreign concept to you, paladin.” He squeezed Lance’s knee. “Or were you expecting something else?”

“Nothing else! Sleep is good!” Lance forced a laugh and hopped off the bed. “I’ll just sleep on the–”

“The bed,” Lotor interrupted. “You’ll sleep with me. In the morning, we will dine together again. I will have something brought to keep you occupied in my absence during the day.”

“Gee, thanks,” Lance huffed.

“Sorry, would you prefer fighting in the arena to being my companion? Shall I offer you to the research lab?”

Lance bit his tongue and crawled to the head of the bed. Lotor slid in behind him. The lights turned off, and Lotor’s arm slung over Lance’s waist. He waited until he heard Lotor’s breathing even out before closing his own eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a very self-indulgent fic!


End file.
